Muggle Stories and Crimson-Red Blushing
by LongliveLove17
Summary: Ginny Weasley believes in muggle stories. She believes in fantasy love. But does it come true? Even if you wish on a wishing star, will love blossom in the most hopeful places? Or will there always be lines between realistic, and unrealistic?


Ginny's POV

I believe in tales. Don't you? I mean, romance tales. Like, the Princess and the Frog. Or Snow White. Hermione loves telling me about those sort of muggle stories. I guess muggle stories are more unrealistic and deeper than us wizard stories. I prefer muggle ones. They're so hard to believe, but you really want to. Wizard stories are so not emotion-like. At least there's a moral!

I guess muggle stories are so fantasy, you wish you could be stuck in one, and their stories ALWAYS turn out perfect. That's the difference between a story and life: There are some lines that are drawn between such fantasy. Take my life. I really really like this boy with jet black hair and these sparkling green eyes that I could just fall into! But he's my brother's best friend, yet he STILL doesn't notice me! Hermione says I should try crushing on other people, but it's so hard to even look at other people when you've got him on your mind!

If I were in a muggle story, he would be drooling over me! I laugh as I write. I like that idea. Then I think about waking uo with slobber on my pillow, and I giggle. Maybe not as much as I first thought. Sometimes, I worry that Hermione likes Harry a little too much. But she's assured me about a billion times that nothing is going on between them, and it'd be SO gross if she ever had to kiss him. I like having Hermione around. She can always cheer me up. Even if she is horrible at Quidditch!

"Ginny!" My mother yells up numerous staircases. "We're having dinner!" This makes me smile. No matter what, my mother will never use that mikey- fone Daddy got her. I could picture Daddy rolling his eyes right now.

I troop down the stairs in my cotton, and some what woren pajamas, where my family is waiting for me. I remember Harry is staying with us, and I can't help but smile as I receive a grin. I wonder if he really could be falling for me. I shake my head. That'd be hoping too much. It's obvious, though, that something is on his mind all through dinner. He doesn't even show any excitement about the Quidditch Cup in a few months, and even Hermione joins into the conversation. Harry just sits still though, and I accept his silence, instead deciding to ask him (while blushing, mind you), if he could pass the salt. It's like I woke him up from a day dream. He obligingly does what I asked, and instantly joins into the conversation.

I feel proud of myself, though I seriously don't know why. Maybe I just made him feel better, I dreamed hopefully.

It was only after dinner that he showed that he wasn't completely healed. He playing Ron at chess while Hermione and I watched. I hoped Harry would win. It would really make my day. I could tell he was purposely trying to lose, and I could tell Ron could, too, but he didn't let it pass on his face. He didn't even mind that he had just lost ten galleons to his best friend.

I couldn't sleep that night, so I quietly stepped outside. I was surprised to see a figure already outlining the willow tree I had been hoping to sit under. I was about to turn away, disappointed, when a voice called me back. "Ginny!" His voice was soft and blurry, as if he had had too much alcohol. But he hadn't, because his green eyes gleamed. I was embarrassed that he wanted to speak to me one-on-one, and I was afraid that I wasn't able to fix my hair. I hurriedly tried to push a stray lock of hair behind my ear, but it wouldn't stay there!

I tried to fix it into a messy bun. Would he notice my hair? Does he prefer brunettes? "Ginny, just come, sit by me."

I was so startled, it was like I was seeing myself walk over and sit down next to him. We leaned against the trunk, he on one side, me on the other. "Yes?" My voice shook, and inwardly I glared at myself.

Harry didn't seem to notice, though. "Ginny, do you like Hogwarts?"

I was taken aback by this question. "Yes, I have. Except when Tom Riddle totally controlled me, because that was the worst experience of my life and it was so embarrassing that you had to save me, and I swear I'll be really careful in the future because..." I was babbling like an idiot.

"Ginny?" He asked again.

"Yes?"

"Do you have friends? Do you have a boy friend?"

" A boy friend? Well, yes."

"Is he a Slytherin?"

"No, why?"

He ignored the question. "Ginny?"

"Yes?" we were going into routine.

"Have you ever been called something really rude by a friend?"

I had no idea where this was going. "No," I chose my words carefully. "Usually, if I find someone I like, I make sure that they would be a true friend, not a friend that would stab you behind the back?" I flushed rosy red. Why did he want to talk to me? Why not Ron, or Hermione?

"Ginny, do you know who you remind me of?"

"No, who?"

"Lily Evans." I stared at him. "My mother," he said quickly. "Same hair, same personality..."

I couldn't help it. I acted so weird around him, how could he know who I really was?"How would you know?" I sounded harsher thatn I had hoped. He only looked mildly surprised.

"How? Ron and Hermione are always talking about you," I blushed, but turned a darker crimson when Harry stood up, moved around to the other side of the trunk, extended his hand, and helped me up.

He studied me for a second. "You look cute when you blush," he flashed me a quick grin, before pausing as if checking if I were coming, deciding I was not, and walking away.

I smiled briefly, and touched my cheek. He hadn't kissed me, we were too young for that, but he had spoken to me because of... a blush. I grinned. Maybe muggle stories really do come true.

**AW! So cute! By the way, Ginny is twelve and Harry is thirteen. Sorry he acted kinda weird, but it was cute and fluffy right?**


End file.
